


turned you into someone new

by peppermintcas



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Card Games, Heteronormativity, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintcas/pseuds/peppermintcas
Summary: Against all odds, Alex lives.He can't tell whether he's grateful or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in 2 days bc My Boy zach dempsey deserves some fic n i love him

It isn't Alex who picks up the call.

"Zach," someone says. The voice is deep, brisk. "This is Zach, right?"

"Um, yeah," he says slowly. "Uh, I'm sorry, who is this? Where's Alex?"

"This is Alex's father. Alex is - " A deep inhale. "He's in critical condition at Mercy Hospital."

Zach blinks. "Is it - his stomach thing?" he asks blankly. He remembers Jess talking about that. What else could it -

"What? No. He's - they're saying he shot himself. In the head."

_I got no plans. I'm good to tell the truth._

_If I kill myself, do you die too?_

"Oh my God," Zach says.

Not again. He can't do this again it's too _soon_ -

"Yeah. It's not looking too hot, son. Listen, I called because you'd texted him so many times. It seemed urgent. Did you need him?"

"No," he says, only half registering what he's saying. "No, it's okay, I - " He slings his backpack over his shoulder, closes his eyes and recollects. "I'm sorry, Mr. Standall. It wasn't urgent. I can ask him..." He trails off, suddenly aware. "...Uh. Later."

"Alright then, son," Alex's father says. He sounds distracted. "See you, Zach."

With that, he hangs up.

Zach pulls his phone away from his ear, stares at it. Swears.

And then he goes to find - _someone_.

/

Against all odds, Alex lives.

He can't tell whether he's grateful or not.

/

"What are you doing here?" Alex asks. He tries to sit up, but stops with a wince; Zach glances anxiously at the door, pushes him back down. "Dude, stop. Are those flowers? What are you doing?"

Zach is blushing. "You're in the hospital," he says roughly, looking for a place to put the bouquet. "So I brought you flowers. They're a gift."

"Uh," Alex says. "Thanks."

Zach carries an empty water bottle over to the sink and fills it up halfway. "You got, like, scissors?"

"They don't let me keep sharp objects in here," Alex says blandly.

Zach stops as he realizes. Turns around, slowly. "Did you - " he starts, and then obviously can't think of how to ask.

"No," Alex says. He laughs, bitter; it hurts his head. "Isn't that the fucking kicker? I didn't."

"Then how - "

"I'll tell you if you tell me why you're here."

Zach fits his bouquet into the water bottle, impossibly. "It was the right thing to do," he says. "Everyone thought that you tried to kill yourself. After Hannah..." He pauses. Clears his throat. "I'm trying," he says, and it's quiet and genuine and pained.

"We're not that good friends, Zach," Alex says, more like a warning than he intended.

"Do you want me to - " Zach gestures towards the door, his brow furrowed.

They look at each other for a moment, a silent standoff, until Alex drops his eyes. "No," he mutters, resigned, and then, "Where's everyone else then?"

" _Ha_ ," Zach says, more word than laugh, more bitterness than humor. "Everyone found some - fuckin' excuse. They all have baseball or basketball some shit."

"Glad to know they think so much of me," Alex says dryly.

Zach huffs a laugh and puts the flowers by the window. Drums his fingers on the sill. "Alright then," he says, turning around, "your turn."

"Someone fucking shot me," Alex says baldly.

"Jesus Christ. Who?"

"I wish I had time to compile a full profile of my would-be murderer, but I was busy at the time. You know, dying."

"It was a reasonable question."

"Please. If I knew I would've told you."

Zach pulls an armchair up to the bed. "Did you tell your dad? The police?"

"Not yet," Alex says. "My dad's at some conference in DC. I haven't had the chance."

"Well, what if the murderer hears you're alive and comes back to finish the job?" Zach asks, with considerable alarm.

 _Come and get me_ , he thinks. "I'll be fine," he says out loud. "It's a fucking hospital. There are security cameras everywhere."

"I'm staying with you," Zach says determinedly, sitting back in the chair.

" _What?_ "

"You're not dying now. Not on my watch. Just - " Zach waves a hand towards Alex. "You need to testify. We gotta pay for our sins. Et cetera."

"Oh my God," Alex says. "Ugh. Fine."

They sit in silence for a second.

"Do you have cards, by any chance?" Alex asks off-handedly.

"Nope," Zach says. "I can bring them tomorrow, though."

"Tomorrow?" Alex can't contain his incredulity. "You're gonna come back tomorrow, too?"

"And the next day, and the next, till you tell your dad and get some protection," Zach says, like it's obvious.

"I'll _call_ him," Alex says impatiently.

"You got a problem with me, Standall?"

"I - " He flounders. "What'll your mom think? Your basketball coach?"

"I'm the star player and the star son," Zach says. "I'll ask for a few days off to tend to a friend who tried to shoot himself."

"Jesus," Alex says, letting his head fall back on the pillows. "Jesus. Alright, you're actually doing this. Cool. In that case, hand me the TV remote."

Zach grins at his surrender and passes the remote over.

/

"I'll be back tomorrow," Zach says, letting himself out when visiting hours are over. "Don't die, Standall."

"I'll try my best," he says dryly.

Zach smiles and shuts the door.

/

Alex scoops up his pile of winnings and lets the coins dribble through his fingers. "This is getting boring, dude."

"Oh my God," Zach says, letting his head fall back on the chair backrest. "Your poker face is uncanny."

"I've always been better at this than you," Alex says smugly. "Listen, you're just losing money, you sure you wanna keep going?"

"Fuck you," Zach says, but he's smiling.

/

"Dude," Zach says, scrolling through his music, "you're still listening to this stuff? What is this?" He taps something, and The Joy Division blares out into the hospital room.

"The Joy Division," Alex says, self explanatory, over the din.

"Joy destroyer, more like," Zach says, tapping on another song. "Goddamn. Get some music taste."

"Fuck you," Alex says, but he's smiling.

/

Zach Dempsey is lonely.

He is; he thinks he's finally ready to admit it. Hannah was right about him. He's surrounded by people who couldn't give less of a shit about him, about each other. Nothing he has is tethered. Justin's gone; Jessica's a mess; he ignores other people's calls and texts and Snapchats because they don't fucking matter to him.

What was it Hannah said?

_No one sees you for you._

He closes his eyes.

"Go fish," Alex says.

/

 **Alex:** 3rd day. u dont have to come.

 **Zach:** See you there.

/

Zach _is_ kind. Hannah was right about that. He's got a good heart, Alex thinks; he was burned, and lashed out like a kid. But Zach wanted to tell the truth during the depositions, and he's been here for three days keeping Alex company - making small talk and laughing at his jokes and stealing his food. He might just be doing penance, but Alex is grateful for it.

He doesn't call his dad.

/

 **Alex:** that chef u liked on masterchef got cut

 **Zach:** Aw, come on  >:(

 **Alex:** i'll let u have my mac n cheese as consolation

/

He comes anyway.

"Son," Alex's father says, stepping into the room.

"Hi, Dad," Alex says.

"Hey, Mr. Standall," Zach says.

"I think I called you," Alex's dad says amiably, coming forward and shaking Zach's hand. "You've been keeping Alex company? Good, good. Thank you so much. You're a good friend."

"No problem," Zach says, and slants a glance at Alex: _now_.

"Dad," Alex says. "There's something I need to tell you."

/

Zach is made to show his school ID, his driver's license, is subject to a patdown and gets his bag searched. Feeling slightly invaded, he shoulders past the guards - he's as tall as any of them - and into the room. "Don't tell me there's more security in here," he says, disgruntled.

"Zach," Alex says, sounding surprised. "What are you doing?"

"I came to visit," he says, the _duh_ implicit in his voice. "At the expense of my dignity."

"Big words for the basketball star," Alex says automatically, and then blinks. "There's security outside."

"I fuckin' noticed," Zach says, dumping his bag by the chair. As an afterthought, he adds, "It's good. Whatever. You know, finally."

"Wasn't that why you kept coming? For my security?"

He pauses. "Do you not want me to be here?"

Alex makes a slightly strangled noise, thumps his head back against the bed. "I didn't say - it's not that. It's just that you don't have to be here, and I'm sure you've got better things to do - "

"I finally brought enough change for a proper poker game," Zach says, looking wounded.

A long pause. And then: "Can't play long," Alex says, sounding resigned. "I'm on some new cocktail of drugs. Got me all fucked up and sleepy and shit."

"Alright," Zach says easily, pulls the chair up to the bed and empties his wallet and deals the cards.

Alex beats him three times in a row. Zach thinks he's okay with that.

/

"Why are you really here?" Alex asks, on the brink of falling asleep.

Zach says, firmly, "You're my friend."

"Uh-huh," Alex says, and closes his eyes and can't seem to open them again.

/

"You're suicidal, aren't you," Zach says.

"Wow, Dempsey," Alex says. "On the nose."

Zach plows on. "Are you - " he hesitates, casts around - "at risk?"

"Well, Zach, that's an existential question. Really, we're all at risk just by virtue of living - "

"Alex."

"Why do you sound like a mental health PSA?" Alex asks, exasperated. "I'm fine."

"Obviously not."

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"I can't deal with another Hannah," Zach says.

Silence.

"What a way to phrase it," Alex says coldly.

Zach winces. "Sorry," he says, and he even sounds like he means it. His eyes flick up to Alex's. "I meant - you're my friend."

Alex stays silent, watching Zach's face, his eyes, that one lock of hair that keeps falling over his brow.

"Please don't kill yourself," Zach says.

"Your heartfelt plea is noted and will be taken into consideration," Alex tells him, "and that's all I have to say. Deal the damn cards."

But Zach keeps staring at him, fidgeting with the deck in his hands, looking nervous. Alex rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna kill myself, don't look at me like that," he says, and snatches for the cards.

Zach lets him have them. As Alex busies himself laying out the stacks, Zach takes a breath like he's bracing himself and says, "There are people who care about you - "

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Alex says.

" - who love you - "

"Uh-huh."

" - and who would be devastated if you died," Zach finishes, his jaw tightening.

"You definitely sound like a health PSA," Alex snaps.

"Haven't we all just been through the aftermath of a suicide?" Zach asks roughly. This, at least, sounds real, and not like the parroted words of a dozen therapists and counselors. "Isn't that aftermath still going on? Death is messy and horrible and it's got consequences for everyone around you, whether you intend it to or not, Alex."

Alex lays down his cards, suddenly tired. "Jesus," he says. "Alright. I know."

Zach looks at him. "Alright," he says. "Good."

/

"This is a hospital room," Alex whispers.

"Yeah," Zach says.

"There are cameras," he reminds him, more urgently.

"I don't care," Zach says gently, and leans forward, and -

\- Alex slides into awareness, blanketed by a fog of drugs. He can't remember what he dreamed about. He thinks, drowsily, _what the fuck_ , but then he _remembers_.

"Oh, no fucking way," he says to the ceiling.

/

"You're looking at me funny," Zach says, frowning.

"I - no, I'm not," Alex says hastily, and looks away to the wilting bouquet.

/

 **Zach:** I have to go to practice today.

 **Alex:** ah fuck, ur gonna miss the masterchef special

 **Zach:** I'm devastated

 **Zach:** I'm sorry i can't come. I'll try and drop by after practice

 **Alex:** u dont have to

 **Zach:** I want to, dude

 **Zach:** I'll see you later.

 **Alex:** see u

/

"Who're you texting?" Monty slaps his arm, leering. "A _girl_?"

"Yeah," Zach says easily, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Your girl, motherfucker."

Monty scoffs. "You wish," he calls, and careens off down the hall.

Zach stares after him, his smile slipping as easily as he'd drawn it up. Feeling hollow, he starts for the lunch room.

/

"I think Hannah's right about you, y'know," Alex says.

Zach raises an eyebrow, puts down a card. "About what?"

"You being lonely," Alex says. His eyes move over Zach's face. Zach's stopped rifling through his deck; he's just staring down at it now, his brow furrowed. "I think - no one knows you, really."

"Is this because I questioned you about suicide the other day?" Zach asks dryly, but before Alex can respond, he sighs. Lays down his cards. "She's probably right," he says. "I don't - no one gives a shit about me, really. I'm either my money or my car or my team number, and I'm not just that, you know - I really do wanna be a marine biologist, do you know that? And I kept Hannah's letter. And I love my mom and my sister so fucking much. I play chess with my sister all the time because she's going through a phase."

Alex puts down his cards, too, and hesitantly reaches out to touch Zach's hand.

"And," Zach adds mutinously, "I _do_ cry when I dissect frogs."

Alex gives a short, startled laugh.

"Oh yes," Zach says, but his mouth ticks up at the corner. "Go on, laugh at me."

"I'm not - " Alex has to stop, shake his head to keep from smiling. "I'm trying not to, honest. It's just the frog thing. I would cry too."

"Alright, Standall," Zach says. "Alright."

"I swear. Just the frogs."

Zach laughs, bright and genuine.

"And..." Alex says, his smile fading. "You kept the letter?"

/

Zach retrieves his wallet and lets Alex flip it open, bare his life to see: the photo of his family, taken on one of those rare occasions where his dad was back from a business trip. His driver's license. His credit cards (he feels a flush of shame, defensiveness). And then the letter - tucked in a front pocket, deep, where it can't get caught on something and be pulled out accidentally.

 _Zach_.

Hannah's handwriting.

"You're welcome to read it," Zach says.

"I know," Alex says, but he doesn't. He puts down the letter; picks the wallet back up. "That's your family?" he asks. "How come I've never seen your dad around?"

It's a genuine enough question. Zach obliges him. "He's on business trips in China a lot," Zach says quietly. "He sends money home. And candy for my sister."

"Huh," Alex says, wondering. "Explains a lot."

"Huh?"

"Mama's boy," Alex says, but with none of Justin or Bryce or Monty's mocking sneer. Just fondness. He glances over. "It's not a bad thing. I kinda wish I was more of one. My mom's gone a lot too, you know. I don't get the chance."

Zach looks at him.

"What?" Alex asks, flushing.

"Nothing," Zach says, smiling. "No, honestly. I'm sorry. Shit must be hard."

Alex swallows, turns back to the wallet. "Yeah, well," he says, fishing the driver's license out. "She's had that job since I was twelve. She's - you know. Tired a lot."

"That sucks, dude." He watches Alex flip the card over. "I can't imagine life without my mom, for real."

Alex sighs, thumbs the picture in the corner of the license.

"Oh god," Zach says, momentarily distracted. "Don't look at that, that was two years ago, I hadn't gotten my hair cut yet."

"What's so bad about it?" Alex asks, his mouth tipping upwards into a smirk.

"I look like Shaggy from Scooby Doo," Zach says, horrified.

"More like - " Alex thinks. "John Lennon, circa 1967."

"Oh my god," Zach says, "You're such a fucking nerd."

"Shut up, Dempsey," Alex says cheerfully, and slips the license back into the wallet.

He picks up the letter. Hesitates upon unfolding it. And just like that, tension floods the room; Zach can feel it, his shoulders hunching up, defensive.

Alex thumbs the paper. "Listen," he says softly. "It's - almost time to go. Can I keep this? Just overnight. I can't read it right now, I just - can't."

Zach exhales. Runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sure," he says.

"Thanks," Alex says.

When he looks up, he looks at Zach, and he feels - clear. Seen.

"No problem," he says.

When Alex hands him back his wallet, he swears it feels lighter.

/

"Fuck you," Justin says, stepping back.

"Justin, listen - "

"Fuck you, Zach, I thought you were my fucking friend - "

"It's just - " He glances desperately back into the house. "I don't - "

"Yeah, alright, you don't fucking want me here, it's fine," Justin says. Unfathomable fury, balled into a human being; Zach feels cowed in the face of it. "You fucking - you - "

"I'm fucking sorry, man, I am, but my mom - "

"Fuck," Justin says, and he's sobbing, full on, just breaking down on Zach's doorstep. "Fuck, I..."

Zach looks behind him; closes the door and moves forward, cautiously, laying a hand on Justin's shoulder. When he isn't shoved away, he wraps his arms around him. Justin covers his face with his hands and tries to stop his shoulders from shuddering.

"Listen," Zach says. He's no stranger to Justin's breakdowns, really. He's witnessed a dozen and comforted him to the best of his ability but he feels like a clumsy oaf, always; he never knows how to give Justin what he needs. "Come around back. Climb up to my window. You can sleep here tonight, take a shower, do what you need."

Justin wipes his hands over his face. "Your mom - "

"I'll lock my door, she'll think I'm doing homework," Zach says dismissively. It's not like that excuse hasn't worked before. "Just come in."

"Zach..." Justin says, and closes his eyes again. A couple stray sobs shake his chest.

"You'll be okay," Zach says, wondering if he's lying. "You'll be okay."

/

"You look like hell," Alex says.

"Thanks," Zach says grimly. He hadn't gotten much sleep; he'd stayed awake with Justin until two. "Stayed up late." He hesitates, and then, "Justin showed up."

" _Oh_ ," Alex says, understanding.

"Yeah," Zach says. He drops his bag and sinks into the chair; rubs his hands over his face, yawns. "I'm dead on my feet, man. And Coach was chewing me out for it too..."

Alex is scooting over before Zach even finishes his sentence. "Here," he says.

Zach eyes him, and then the bed. "What?"

"The bed, man." Alex sits up properly, wincing. "I'm sore as shit, I've been in it too long today. I'll switch with you. I can take the chair."

"Dude," Zach says, "you have fucking brain trauma."

"It's fine," Alex says, unconvincingly.

"Uh, no," Zach says.

Alex rolls his eyes. He looks a little nervous. "We can share, then. I'll wake you up at eight."

"For real?"

"No, I'm faking you out. Come on, dude, do you need a nap or what?"

Zach rises, assessing the space. "If I knew I was just gonna nap here," he says, "I would've gone home."

"Then you wouldn't have the pleasure of my company."

"Ha," Zach says, toeing off his shoes and placing them neatly at the foot of the bed. "You're right."

Alex laughs. And then yelps, as the mattress tips under Zach's weight; he grabs the rail to keep from sliding. "Jesus, you're heavy as fuck."

"It's all muscle, baby," Zach says leeringly, way too close for comfort. "You wanna see?"

"Get the fuck out," Alex says, laughing.

Zach flops back against the pillows, still grinning. "Wake me up at six, okay?"

"Alright," Alex agrees, watching as Zach takes his phone out. "Wait, why? You leaving early?"

"I gotta get home before my mom does so I can talk to Justin," Zach says absently, flipping through his apps.

"Smart," Alex says. And then, "What _are_ you gonna do about Justin?"

"No fuckin' clue," Zach says, typing out a text and dropping his phone by his side. "Let him stay, I guess. He looked - desperate."

"Jessica told me he's got nowhere to go," Alex says quietly.

"He told me the same," Zach says. "I dunno, man, I just don't fuckin' know. He can't just - live with me. And he told me he broke ties with Bryce, too."

" _Good_ ," Alex says vehemently.

"Which also means he's got nowhere to stay," Zach says, sharp.

"Better than relying on a fucking rapist."

Zach's silent. And then, quiet, "Maybe."

They let the silence sit for a little: Zach, staring at the ceiling, his hands linked over his stomach; Alex, his eyes flickering between the truly dead bouquet of flowers and Zach beside him. Zach can feel it, his wandering gaze, and he wonders -

Alex says, breaking the quiet, "Go to sleep, dude. I'll wake you."

"Thank you," Zach says, "honestly," and closes his eyes.

/

When he's sure Zach is asleep, Alex slides out of bed, wincing, and rummages through his backpack until he finds his wallet.

He puts the letter back where he found it. He didn't read it. He's not sure he'll ever be able to.

/

Zach Dempsey snores. And he's too fucking tall for the bed, which means when he rolls over in his sleep, his knees get crammed up against Alex's. He rolls his eyes and slings his legs over Zach's, slouching down in the bed until he's comfortable.

He at least has the presence of mind to set an alarm on his phone before he falls asleep.

/

" _Don't you want me, baby_ ," The Human League croons in his ear. " _Don't you want me, baby..._ "

"Ugh," Zach says, sleepy and loud and way too close. "Turn that shit off."

"That shit is the fuckin' alarm I set it for you," Alex mumbles into the pillow. "You could at least thank me."

" _Don't you waaaant me..._ "

"Thank you," Zach says. "Now please turn it off before I fuckin' kill myself."

Alex turns it off and cracks his eyes open to stare up at the ceiling.

"Sorry," Zach adds belatedly.

"What?" Alex asks, bewildered, and then remembers what Zach just said. "Oh. How blasé of you."

Zach huffs a laugh. Alex is lying there, just barely keeping from drifting off, when Zach says - barely audible - "This is kinda gay."

"Oh my god, Zach," Alex says, exasperated.

"We're in the same - fuckin' bed, dude, we're basically, like, cuddling - "

"It's 2017 - "

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it - "

"You'd better not, this is comfortable as shit, I'll have you know - "

"I'm not saying it's not comfortable, either," Zach says, laughing a little, "I'm just saying - it's gay."

"Well, do you like me romantically?" Alex asks sardonically, turning over so they're face to face.

Zach's going red. There's a questionable pause, and then - "No," Zach says.

Alex's heart picks up a beat. Or maybe two. Or three.

"And I don't like you," Alex says, trying to be firm about it. "So. Not...gay."

Zach's brow furrows. They stare at each other across the pillows for an interminable amount of time.

"I'm not - " Zach says, slowly.

Alex swallows. "I know," he says.

"Are you..." He lets the question hang in the air.

"Look at my hair, Dempsey," Alex says, only half-kidding. When Zach actually glances up, he laughs, more out of nerves than anything. "Jesus. I dunno. Maybe."

"I'm sorry," Zach says.

Alex blinks. "What for?"

"No fuckin' clue," Zach says honestly, and leans forward.

Alex can't believe that this is happening. (He can't believe that this is happening). Zach Dempsey is actually leaning towards him, his eyes half-lidded and still tired and _flickering down to Alex's mouth._

"Is this a dream?" Alex asks wonderingly.

"Not the last time I checked," Zach says, and props himself up on one elbow and cradles Alex's head with one hand, so excruciatingly gentle with the bandage, and kisses him.

/

"That's pretty gay, Dempsey," Alex says, once they break apart.

"Shut up," Zach says fondly, and kisses him again.

/

 **Zach:** I'll bring you more flowers

 **Zach:** And a vase, this time

 **Alex:** that's also gay

 **Zach:** Shut up, dude

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this dumbass niche ship.......i did this 2 myself


End file.
